The Angel in the Mirror
by Rhyno304
Summary: Buffy/Angel crossover. Set post season 1 of Bones. And of course post Not Fade Away. I am ignoring the Buffy and Angel comic book seasons, because I haven't read them. New Chapter!
1. Chapter 1

_Ok, I own nothing. But I wish I had Whedon's genius. And an Angela Montenegro of my very own. As stated in the preview, this is a maybe oneshot. I have an idea to continue this, but I am a notorious procrastinator. And I'm lazy. But anyway, let me know what you think._

The man stood in the shower, enjoying the simple pleasure of hot water streaming down his body, steam filling his lungs. For so long, he had not been able to feel either except in the most distant of ways. Cutting off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack and started drying off, still savoring the feeling of steam in his lungs. He wiped away the steam from the mirror and grabbed his shaving cream. After applying it to his face, he reached for the razor. He carefully ran the blade over the day's worth of stubble on his face. When he was finished, he studied his face.

Staring at yourself in a mirror. Such a simple act, but for the longest time, one denied to him. If anything could have been seen, it would have been his thousands of victims. It was amazing how much a simple thing like his reflection meant to him.

Now, because of four people, he could look himself in the eyes. Whistler had pulled him out of his misery and self-pity. Buffy had shown him that life was worth fighting for. Doyle had given him a real mission worth fighting for. Cordelia had shown him that life was worth living.

And so the being formerly known as Liam, then Angelus, and finally as Angel had been granted his Shan Shu, his new life. The Powers That Be gave him another chance.

Liam O'Donnell had died centuries ago.

Angelus had stuck around for a long time but had finally been defeated.

Angel had gained redemption and fought no more.

All that was left was the soul of an old warrior living a new life. A life granted to him by the ones who manipulated his old one and the woman/demon who loved and understood him best.

All that was left was Seeley Booth. Special Agent with the FBI. Working with the world renowned forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan and her squad of super squints at the Jeffersonian institution. Former Army Ranger sniper with a son by a woman he wasn't married to.

This life was created by The Powers That Be with input from his own personal guardian angel, Cordelia Chase. She had come down in the darkest moment in the alley, as he was struggling out from underneath the dragon he had just slain and was about to have to face another wave of Wolfram and Hart's horde. Spike, Gunn and Illyria were nowhere to be seen, either still fighting or already fallen. Cordelia had come down in all her radiance and suddenly he was alone with her.

As she was describing the new life he would be living, he had to ask why. "Buddy, you looked after me for so long, now it's my turn. You deserve this. And you better believe I'm gonna make sure those guys aren't gonna screw this one up. I'm one of them now. They let me take over for the bitch that took my body and screwed us over. Or at least kept there from being an us. But forget that. You will have plenty of opportunities for new relationships. Don't let them pass you by. You can get groiny all you want, no worries. Except, you know, STD's."

The life of an FBI agent wasn't a simple one and he still had to "fight the good fight" as Doyle would have said. Few knew his true nature and false memories had been implanted to keep his cover complete. Those that knew only knew because of their positions of the FBI Supernatural Task Force. But Riley Finn, Kate Lockley, and Charles Gunn all knew that he should only be contacted as an extreme last resort.

The Powers, beings of balance that they were, had made sure that his new life had similarities to Angel's life. His guilt over the torture and murder of Angelus' reign transferred into the guilt of a soldier who had killed. It was a different kind of guilt, though. Yes, he had killed men and even some women, but it was always in the line of duty and always soldiers. So the guilt was tempered.

The life even included a son, an idea of Cordy's he assumed. He had missed out on Conner's childhood. He wasn't going to miss out on Parker's.

Yet for all of Cordy's influence, The Powers That Be had made sure that he was still serving on the side of good. Investigation wasn't really his forte, but centuries of stalking his human prey as well as years working with the Angel Investigations crew had given him insight into the human mind. A year in the bowels of Wolfram and Hart had given him knowledge of the legal system and the ways criminals tried to get around it.

Nothing, however could have prepared him for working with the Jeffersonian crew. The collective I.Q. of Bones' team was more than the population of most towns. Fred would have fit in well with this group. Especially Zack. In fact, the team seemed to be a mixture of the crews he had worked with previously. A smarter mixture true, but the personalities were all there. Again, he wondered if it was by design. Another attempt by Cordy to take care of him? She had changed so much since her high school days. The former queen bitch of Sunnydale High School was now the kindest, most compassionate, and newest member of The Powers That Be, taking the place of the being known as Jasmine.

He shook his head. Thinking about the past would only distract him from the present. He had come too far in integrating into this life to be dragged back into his old one.

The ringing of his cell phone shook him out of his reverie. Toweling off his hair, he walked out into his bedroom and grabbed the phone and checked the caller I.D. Cullen. Just great.

"Booth, grab your squint and get your asses out to the Washington Monument. The restoration team found a body. Pretty gruesome. Right up her alley."

"Yes sir."

With that, he slipped back into character.

Time to go to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't own 'em**

Standing tall over DC, the Washington Monument was a tribute to the man who had led the country in its earliest years. A man whose ideals shaped the formation of the country: service, sacrifice, bravery. The white marble and granite stood as a statement to the strength of America's first president. The simplicity of the 555 foot tall obelisk struck him as a perfect representation of such a great man. In fact, only the Vietnam Wall stirred more emotion in him.

"Beautiful, isn't it Bones?"

Dr. Temperance Brennan looked over at her FBI partner in confusion and exasperation.

"Booth, in what way is a 550 foot tall phallus beautiful?" She fought back a chuckle as Booth's eyes almost popped out of his head, an anatomical near impossibility but apt colloquialism. "It is a typical reaction of a male dominated society to feel they must _erect_ a memorial to a war leader. Even more typically, they chose a phallic symbol to memorialize him. The Washington Monument is only an _immense_, white phallus. It is though our nation is saying 'Look at America. See how manly we are.'"

By this time, they had reached the base of the monument in Booth's government-issue Tahoe. As he got out of the car, Booth began gathering the facts to defend his case. Almost as one, they closed their respective doors and proceeded to the maintenance entrance.

"First off, Bones, not all of the monuments here are phal- that way. Take the Lincoln and Vietnam memorials. One honoring the man who pulled our country back together after a civil war. The other memorializing the thousands who fought and died in one of history's least popular wars."

"Secondly," he added, pressing the button on the elevator that would take them to the top, "George Washington wasn't just a brilliant general. He was also a great politician. After the disaster of the Articles of Confederation, he was the one the whole nation trusted to unite and guide. And he was humble enough to turn down the offer to be crowned king of America and voluntarily did not run again after two unanimously voted terms as a president. If that's the kind of manhood we are going to celebrate and flaunt to the world, then I say 'Good for us!'"

Truth be told, Temperance Brennan had kind of phased out when Booth started talking about the Vietnam Memorial. Instead, she was analyzing his body language and posture. Normally a tall man, when Seeley began his lecture, he stood up straighter, set his shoulders, and his eyes gleamed (yes, she knew there wasn't any scientific reason why they should, but she'd give back one of her PhD's if his eyes didn't have a sparkle in them). His breathing quickened and his face seemed to gain more color. She felt her own breath speed up and pulse quicken to match his, a physiologically female response that her rational mind quickly quenched.

Was this how he felt when surrounded by the scientific jargon and intellectual debates she and her team engaged in at the Institute? She wasn't ignorant in American history, but it had been years since her undergraduate years and since then she had only focused on the more culturally significant factors. She knew many of the facts that Booth was stating, but the way he was saying them, with such emotion and passion, was just so. . . "Hot" the "mini-Angela" in her brain supplied.

Absently, she noticed that he had stopped speaking and was looking at her in a way that meant he was expecting a response. She really didn't want to debate the issue and so too the easy way out.

"You're right, Booth," she said, grateful that the elevator had finally reached the top. Stepping through the opening doors, she asked the important question. "Where did you learn all that anyway?"

"Bones, despite what you and the other squints think, I do have and actual college degree. Majored in Criminal Justice with a minor in- tada- History. Plus, it's not like you couldn't pick up any of those things from watching the History Channel."

Temperance knew avoidance when she heard it, but let it go when she smelled the reason they were there: burnt human flesh.

They had arrived at the scene.

As they walked up to the area illuminated by lights, Booth got out his notebook. "Alright, Bones, what've we got?

"Female, early to mid twenties. Well defined musculature, probably an athlete. There is a ring on the left hand, but unlike any engagement ring or wedding band I am familiar with. The positioning is the strange part. Ordinarily, I would say that the body had been moved and arranged in this position. Usually, burn victims thrash around, trying to put out the fire. At the very least to try to offset the pain. A sleeping victim will wake up if on fire. There's nothing for her to have been bound to. If not for the ashes, scorching on the underlying stone, and the relatively undisturbed muscle tissue, I would say that she was immolated elsewhere and brought here."

"So, for whatever reason, she breaks in, climbs up the stairs, which aren't used much any more, because the power got knocked out last night, making the elevator out of the question," stated Booth, integrating the knowledge gathered by the responding agents. "And then, what, spontaneously combusts?"

"Spontaneous human combustion has never been scientifically proven. And even in the supposed cases, parts of the body remain, this body is completely burned. Parts of the clothing are still recognizable; she was wearing a black leather jacket. Her right hand is clutching something between her breast, a necklace or pendant perhaps. I'll try to open it. See if it can help in identifying the victim"

As she did so, Seeley Booth stopped breathing.

Woman in mid twenties

Athletic build

Remains of black leather jacket

Unusual ring on left ring finger

Unusual death

Clutching a silver cross on a chain.

Buffy

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I never *pant* want to see a *pant* flight of stairs again! I just ran all the way up here," came a young voice over her shoulder. "And *pant* I left Dr. Hodgins in my dust, to use the current phraseology. I am invincible!"

Temperance Brennan did not even look up from her examination of the body as she responded. "Zack, you could have just used the elevator."

"Elevator? What elevator?"

Zack Addy asked in innocent confusion.

At that second, he heard the "ding" of an elevator and out stepped a man with a scruffy beard that made him look far older that he actually was.

"Hodgins, why didn't you tell me that there was an elevator? I just ran all those stairs when I could have just ridden up with you."

Dr. Jack Hodgins just gave his trademark smirk, "You didn't ask. The exercise was good for you Zack. You don't get much exercise. Plus, we just rode in a car together all the way from my house."

Temperance Brennan paid her two assistants no attention as she continued her examination of the body. Right-handed. Not much help, but every little detail could be meaningful.

" Hodgins, there are some ashes here that I am fairly certain don't belong to her. It could be clothing or accessories, but I can't be sure. Tell me what you think"

"Ah, unidentified particulate, just the right words to get me in the mood. Excuse me, Booth," Jack Hodgins brushed past the silent and immobile FBI agent. Of the three scientists, he would have been the one most likely to pick up on the strangeness of Booth's manner, but in his eagerness to get to the particulates in question, he assumed Booth was just letting the squints do their job with as little interference as possible.

"Well, it is organic, but it isn't flesh or bone. May I touch it?" With Brennan's nod, Jack whipped a set of tweezers and a sample jar seemingly out of nowhere. "It looks like wood ashes and here is a more intact piece. When we get back to the lab, I can be more specific, give you the species and such. Oh, a claddagh ring! Cool, I haven't seen one of those in years."

"A what?" Asked the youngest member of the team.

" A claddagh ring. It is an old Irish tradition, stemming from a village of the same name near Galway. They are worn to show romantic attachment. The way this one's worn, on the left hand with the design facing away from the body, traditionally means that the wearer is engaged or, if you go by the more recent symbolism, is in a lasting relationship with their soul mate. She's missed by someone," answered Jack Hodgins, the Jeffersonian's residential Romeo.

Hearing something, all three turned away from the corpse and had the surprise of their lives: Special Agent Seeley Booth had fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up in a bright white space. In front of him was a semicircular table. Above the table floated a moon, a sun, a pentagram, what seemed to be a set of waves crashing, a flame, a gigantic snowflake, an hourglass (complete with sand), and some thing he had seen on a poster in both Fred's lab and Hodgins office space. Six small spheres orbiting a clump of what looked to be twelve other spheres; one part of him wondered what it was, the other didn't really care. At the head of the table was nothing, but he felt a Presence.

An insidious feminine voice came from the moon, on the end of the table to his left. "Liam O'Donnell Angelus Angel Seeley Booth, yet again you have been the focus of much of our discussion."

A booming masculine voice came from the waves, sitting on his right between the sun and fire, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

The strange orbiting thing sitting to the Presence's right spoke with a cold finality, "The Slayer dies; death is in her nature. Death of a demon, death of the Slayer."

"Why do you choose to talk to me now, instead of back when Jasmine had taken over Cordy? You are always coming in after it is too late, damn you!"

The fire, floating between the hourglass and the waves flared, "Silence, you know not in Whose Presence you speak."

From the sun on Booth's right came the voice that had so many times pulled him out of danger. "Oh, shut it hot head, you too, Angel. We gave you're a life as a Catholic and here you are cussing. What's done is done, the present and future is what concerns us, not the past. By the way, she's cute, when are you going to make your move?" The floor turned transparent, showing the scene on the Washington monument. "She's so concerned because, 'Booth does not faint. He must be sick.'"

"You made me faint?! Oh I am never gonna live this one down," despaired the only mortal in the room.

"Hey, buddy there's no room up here for your ego," came the voice from the sun.

"ENOUGH," came a Voice from the Presence. The Voice seemed to penetrate him to his very bones. Booth not only heard the Voice, but felt it as well. "His consciousness was brought before us for a reason. Let us reveal it to him and return his consciousness to the mortal realm."

"A-a-angel," started a soft, somewhat familiar female voice from the pentagram. "You have spent almost two years out of the supernatural fight. Now, however, we must ask you to rejoin it."

"It is in you nature to fight evil. Two pieces of your spirit are specifically designed for it," stated the weird orbital thing.

"Bones and the squint squad couldn't handle it. You want me, fine, but leave them out of it. I also want your word that Parker will be safe."

"You make demands of this council?" said a hard, cold voice from the snowflake. "Foolish mortal, we will involve whomever we wish to involve. There are strengths that must be shown. All is not as it seems."

"But if you think you need more help, ask the Watcher's Council," demanded the moon.

"Now, go back to the mortal realm. Find the one who killed the Slayer and deal with them. As has been stated, all is not as it seems and there are hidden strengths in all mortals," said the Presence. "Now, GO"

With that, Booth woke up to the concerned faces of Jack Hodgins, Zack Addy, and Temperance Brennan. Ignoring their worried looks and questions of his state of health, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he had hoped to never dial.

"WC Enterprises, New York office. How may I direct your call?" came the cheerily optimist voice of the receptionist.

"Put me through to Rupert Giles."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Miranda Travers sat at her desk waiting for the phone to ring. As the adminstative assistant to the head of the Watchers Council, she normally had a lot of work. Making travel arrangments, communicating with branches of the council, summarizing the reports of various watchers from around the world for Mr. Giles to review.

Some days, it made her sick to stomach. Her uncle, and grandfather were both heads of the council. And here she was, a secretary. Just because Buffy "To-Hell-With-Tradition" Summers hated Uncle Quentin, she got taken out of Watcher's school and stuck with an office job. Now, she was going to be the only Travers in the history of the Council to not be a watcher. Which was made even more ridiculous by the sheer numbers of slayers currently in operation.

Hopefully, if she did her current job well enough, Mr. Giles would see the error of Buffy's ways and readmit her to Watcher-in-training status.

"Ring"

"Finally!" She picked up the phone and spoke in the most friendly voice she could despite her true feelings about her job, "WC Enterprises, New York Office. How may I direct your call?"

"Put me through to Rupert Giles."

As far as the world at large knew, Andrew Wells was in charge of WC Enterprises. This provided a filter that allowed Mr. Giles freedom to actually get work done without having to constantly answer his phone. Furthermore, it was a safety precaution. After the bombing of the London office almost wiped out the Council, more safety measures were put in place to ensure that nothing like that ever happened again. But the fact that this caller knew the name Rupert Giles meant that he knew more about the Council than normal.

Not that it mattered right now anyway, because, "Mr. Giles is unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?"

"No, I really need to talk with him," the man answered, sounding frustrated.

"His assistant, Mr. Wells-"

"I don't want to speak to Andrew. He wouldn't be willing or able to help anyway." Miranda was confused by this response. True, Andrew was one of the less experienced Watchers in the Council's employ, but he had proved quite capable in tracking down the rogue slayer, Dana. And he was always extremely eager to help. The man on the other end of the line sighed and spoke again in a voice that made him sound tired and depressed. "Is Xander there??"

"Mr. Harris is currently out of the country," answered a surprised Melinda. Alexander Harris was not even officially a member of the Council. As one of Buffy Summer's oldest friends and one of the few non-supernaturally enhanced survivors of the Battle for Sunnydale, he was now an independently contracted advisor. Currently, he was in Africa, recruiting new Slayers and still mourning the loss of his fiancé, the former demon Anyanka. This mystery caller knew too many of the upper echelon of the Council to be just another businessman selling a product or a prank caller. It was time that she get more information on him. "Sir, may I get your name and reason for calling. That way, I can direct you to the proper person or department."

"This is Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI. I am investicating a death. There is evidence at the scene that possibly identifies the victim as one of Giles' students. I really need to speak with Giles or any other one of the Scoobies. Just not Andrew. What about Willow? Is she there? Or is she still in London?"

Miranda had just about been ready to give Agent Booth the number for Agents Charles Gunn and Riley Finn in the FBI's Cleveland field office. Then he mentioned the phrase "Scoobies." The use of the nickname for Buffy Summer's support group from Sunnydale told her that this man probably already knew that number and had purposely called Rupert Giles directly. As it was there were two members of the old Sunnydale unit in the office that day. Neither of them were completely considered to be "Scoobies", though. "Ms. Lehane and Mr. Pratt are both in the office today. Though neither of them are in the administrative branch, I am sure they can help you. Which would you prefer?"

"Pratt? William Pratt?" asked Agent Booth in a shocked voice.

"Yes sir," answered Miranda. He definitely was there in the office looking so good that she could almost forget his origins. Almost.

"No, you better let me speak to Faith."

"I will transfer you now."

Agent Seeley Booth looked around as he waited for his call to be transferred. Zack and Hodgins had stopped staring at him and had turned back to preparing the body for travel to the Jeffersonian for more detailed examination. Bones, however, was still looking at him with her "what the hell is going on expression. He couldn't really blame her. After all, he had been acting in a very strange manner. He had seemingly collapsed in the middle of a crime scene on top of the Washington Monument only to get right back up and place a call on his cell phone as though nothing had happened. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head, cranking out hypotheses as to his behavior only to discount them as lacking in evidence.

As their eyes met –God, what beautiful eyes- he could read the questions in her eyes. All she wanted was a clue, something to help her reason out a situation that she didn't understand. Instead, he just grinned at her in the most charming way he knew how. Bones was a scientist, preferring facts and data to gut feelings, instincts, and trust. But she did trust him. And from what the Powers had said, he was going to need her trust as well as that of the squint squad if he were going to get them through this. The world of science would soon be left behind.

For someone to kill a slayer was big; killing the Slayer had given Spike the status of an alpha vampire. But to kill Bu…her meant that there was a major player in town. Not someone for amateurs to deal with.

He kept trying to stay in the Seeley Booth persona, but every time he even contemplated the fact that Buffy was de… gone, the remnants of Angel roared out, denying that such a thing were possible.

Bones finally turned away, apparently accepting the fact that she would have to trust him on this issue at least for now, and assisted Zack with the body while Hodgins gathered samples from the piles of ash around the body.

As she did so, a voice from the past filled his ear.

"Yeah, this is Faith, go ahead."

She still seemed to have that devil-may-care attitude it seemed, but it had been tempered. Prison would do that to a person. After Sunnydale, she had helped Buffy train the new slayers. However, word had reached Angel while at Wolfram and Hart that Robin Wood, her Watcher, sometime lover, and the only known child of a Slayer, had been killed during the pacification of the Cleveland Hellmouth.

"Hello? I swear, if this is another prank call, I will have this number traced and come kick your ass!" Well, she had not completely mellowed.

"Faith Lehane, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I require your assistance in a case I am currently working on," said Booth, trying to deepen his voice and sound as little like Angel as possible.

"Any requests from the FBI need to come from either Agent Finn or Agent Gunn. Their number is…wait a sec…let me see if I can find it."

_Oh well_ thought Booth. _Might as well just jump right in. She'll find out eventually anyway._

He stopped disguising his voice.

"Faith, listen, I think we have a dead slayer here, but I'm not sure. I called for Giles hoping he could confirm or deny the preliminary id I've made based on circumstantial evidence. I hope I'm wrong, I REALLY hope I'm wrong. I'm having a team of forensic scientists examine the remains and they will be able to give a more concrete identification, but personally, I need to know if my suspicions are correct."

It was almost as though he could hear the voices of the other people in the office and the mutterings of Hodges as he collected the minute particles that would make or break a case. "Faith, did you hear me? Are you there?"

Then, in quite possibly the quietest voice he could ever imagine her speaking in, she replied. "Angel? Is that really you?"

"Well, kind of, but not really. Well, mostly. It's hard to explain."

"We thought you didn't survive LA. Last time Spike says he remembers seeing you, you were on the back of a dragon trying to cut off its head. He's with us now, you know? Wait a sec. WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU?!!" That was the Faith he knew: angry as hell and not afraid to let the world know it. Bones had even heard her, looking up from processing the body.

"Faith, I'm not exactly in fighting form. I'm not the same person I once was. But I need your help now. We have a dead girl and I think…I think that it's Buffy. Can you tell me where she is right now? Have you heard from her recently?"

He could hear Faith get out of her chair and start pacing. "This discussion isn't over Angel. You've got some serious explaining to do"

"And I'll be happy to explain it, but just not now. Faith, I wouldn't call if I didn't have a good reason. Where is Buffy?" Eventually, he would explain it to her, but not with the squints around and definitely not over the phone.

Faith sighed. "Tell the truth, I have no idea where B is. There are safety measures in place for her protection. Ever since Caleb and his goons killed off most of the old Council and a bunch of potential Slayers, Giles has been kind of anal about safety. Enough to dive me crazy. But the point is, we get a bunch of reports signed by Buffy all from different locations. As well as… well, she's got protection and I don't know where she is."

Faith was hiding something, but Booth wasn't going to back down and so he pushed for more information. He just had to know if the body was Buffy. He couldn't stand to see her face on the holographic display without being prepared for it.

"Is one of those locations DC?" From her silence, he assumed that it was. "Because I have a body of a young, athletic woman burned beyond recognition. But some of her clothes are still intact and relatively undamaged. Add to that the fact that she is surrounded by piles of ashes and on top of the Washington monument adds up to a very unusual case with slayer undertones. Not to mention the fact that she's wearing the same silver cross that I gave Buffy when we first met."

"The first time you met the girl, you gave her jewelry? Damn boy, you move fast! But seriously, all the Council-aligned slayers wear silver crosses. They're sort of like our dog tags, only without our name, blood type, and religion. The one you gave Buffy is in the foyer of the London Headquarters at the Shrine of the Unknown Slayers. Look, I can't give you any definite answers, but the fact that it is a slayer means we have to investigate. I've got a new Watcher to break in, so I'll head on down there. I'll see if I can get one of our staff witches to transport us, but I kind of doubt it, none of them are as cool as Red. But we can take a plane and be there in the morning if we have to," stated Faith.

"Fine, but try to get in touch with Giles, I really want to know. See you soon," responded Booth, ending the call.

"Who was that?" asked his partner, understandably upset at having been snubbed. "Zack and Hodgins have the body ready, Hodgins has his samples, and you've just been chatting on the phone. Can we get to work on this case?"

"It was an old friend. We're gonna need her help on this case, I think," answered Booth, massaging his head to try to stave off the oncoming headache. "Let's just head to the lab and get an id"

This was going to be a long car ride.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Faith hung up the phone, a thoughtful expression on her face. Angel seemed tired and worried. She didn't think that the dead girl was Buffy- she had her own suspicions about Buffy's location- but she had been wrong before. Many times. Regardless, a slayer was dead and regulations demanded a report being filed. Might as well do it herself. Plus, she might even see a little action in DC. First to pick up her new watcher. He wasn't Robin, and wouldn't be able to take his place, but he knew his way around a stake. He was definitely better than Wes was when he took the job- hell of a change THAT man had gone through.

She grabbed her jacket and the overnight bag she kept in her office and headed for his office. He was sitting in his chair, stacks of unread reports surrounding him and I-Pod in his ears playing heavy metal. Picking his nails with a ceremonial dagger, a habit picked up from his ex-girlfriend, no doubt. And definitely not a typical Watcher. As she walked into his office, the dagger was thrown straight at her head. Slayer reflexes kicked in and she caught it centimeters from her nose.

He took the earphones out of his ears and look up at her. "You see, you can do it," he said in his Cockney accent. "This Watcher stuff is pretty simple. A fella could get used to it."

"Don't get too settled, Spike, we're headed to Washington DC. Your granddad asked for some help," Faith responded, turning away and heading for the magical affairs department.

"Granddad? What are you on about?" William Pratt asked, scrambling out of his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

_Still don't own them_

Jack Hodgins exited the Washington Monument deep in thought. The scene at the top had been strange. Not the body so much- he had gotten used to the strange crime scenes they were called in on somewhere around the body stuffed in a refrigerator. What had made the scene at the top so strange had been the actions of Special Agent Seeley booth. Though he was far from an expert on the man, Jack liked to think that he understood Booth better than even Dr Brennan at times. Booth was a man of emotions. And of justice. Every corpse to him was someone's daughter, son, father, mother, or lover. Every case, Booth and Angela reminded the team that the bones on the table were more than just the remnants of some crime, they were all that was left of a person, a life.

Jack opened up his Aston Martin- he was using a "family" car since his was in the shop- and unlocked to door for his younger colleague.

Because of Booth's personal angles on the cases, he was much more emotionally attached to the cases, more determined to find the truth and bring the criminals to justice. That is what made him such a good investigator, the desire for the truth. Usually, at this stage of the investigation, he should have been pestering Dr. Brennan with questions about the victim. Instead, he had fainted. The man was a former Army Ranger Sniper and he had fainted. Then, before they could try to revive him, he had woken up and grabbed his cell phone. Ignoring their worried inquiries, he had placed a call and walked away, leaving them to their own devices.

"The body is on its way. Let's hurry up and get to the lab. I want to have most of the preliminary laboratory work done by the time Dr. Brennan gets there," said Zack Addy as he got into the car. Zack was fond of saying that he was technically a doctor since he was halfway through two doctorates. It was childish thinking like that that kept him from completely connecting with the world at large. "Come on, let's go! Why are you staring at the monument? It is not even slightly aesthetically pleasing."

Jack hadn't even noticed that he was staring at the giant white obelisk. To cover his true thoughts, he slipped into the character that he had developed while working at the Jeffersonian and started the car.

"Zack, just think of all the millions of dollars spent on so called monument like this. All that money wasted on chunks of rock when they could have been used to pay off the national debt, fund a working social security system, or any number of social reforms. Instead the government takes out even more loans and taxes the citizens to build a 50-story white rock that thousands of years from now, people will be wondering its purpose. It's like a modern day Sphinx: it will still be here, but noone will know what it means. The government just wanted another way to cheat the citizens out of their money."

Jack Hodgins was proud of himself for gaining the title of "conspiracy nut." It was a persona that served him well, allowing to do his work in peace. People stayed away from him lest they be drawn into a discussion about the myth of the moon landings or the government's assassination of Tupac. He knew that the government had secrets; due to his family's connections, he even knew many of them. But he never discussed the ones he knew were true, only the ones with no basis in reality. He didn't want to be found dead by an apparent suicide because he had leaked some top-secret truth.

So he kept discussing the government's top-secret plan to bankrupt the citizenry by building monuments with Zack. He knew the arguments and supposed evidence by heart and so could continue the discussion while thinking of something completely different. Booth had said a name that struck a chord with Jack. A name he had heard before. Giles. Rupert Giles. Jack had heard that name in conjunction with the Sunnydale conspiracy.

The American military was conducting secret genetic testing in an underground bunker called the Initiative. To cover it up, a nuclear bomb was detonated underground, erasing all evidence and imploding the town of Sunnydale, California. A person could now look down into the crater that had once been a typical American town. It was a well-crafted theory to explain certain facts: the Sunnydale crater, the unbelievably high Sunnydale mortality rate, reports of disfigured citizens committing violent murders, and the reports of a giant snake at a high school graduation that ate the principle. Good theory, but the truth was far more fantastical than secret genetic testing, as Jack Hodgins well knew.

The name Rupert Giles had some connection with Sunnydale. Jack just didn't know what. Time for some information gathering of his own. He knew just the private investigator for the job. But first to end the conversation with Zack.

"Zachary, my young friend, you are too trusting of the American political institution. One day, you will learn," he said, cutting off Zack's complex argument. "I've got a call to make, so just sit over there and be quiet.

Zack huffed and scrunched down into his chair, acting very much like the ten-year-old he wasn't. Jack ignored him, pulled out his cell phone, and called the best private investigator he knew.

"Full Moon Investigations, we reveal what others hide," came the voice of the very man he wanted to speak with.

"Daniel? What are you doing answering the phone? Where's Nina?" asked Jack, who had been looking forward to a little bit of flirting with the secretary.

"She's feeling a bit under the weather right now, Jack. How have you been?"

"Well, we got a case right now, a strange one, and a name came up that I need checked out. I need you to dig up all you can on a Rupert Giles."

Jack heard Daniel sit up in his leather chair and the rattle of his ever-present bracelet. "Why do you want to know about him?" asked the man on the other end. "How did his name came up?"

Usually, Daniel was a laid back person, but the mention of the name Rupert Giles had brought up an intensity that Jack had never heard from his friend of four years.

"The FBI agent we work with, Seeley Booth, called him. I guess he thinks that this Giles guy might know something about this case."

"Such unsupported hypotheses have no place in a scientific investigation," came the voice of his passenger.

Jack just glared at him. When he was sure that Zack wasn't going to say anything else, he turned his attention back to the phone. "Anyway, I seem to remember hearing something else about him regarding the strange deaths in Sunnydale, California. Just get me a file together on him and send it up here."

Daniel sighed, "Alright, Jack, I'll send you a file, but let me tell you something: if Giles was involved in a crime, there is more to it than science can describe. Keep your mind open on this case."

"Do you know the guy?"

" I should, he was my high school librarian. Look, this file will be too sensitive to send by mail. I'll send Oliver up there to deliver it by hand. I'll book the flight now, and he'll be there this afternoon. I've got some contacts at the airport that can get him in when the flights are full."

"Sounds great, just send me the bill and I'll talk to you later. Thanks a lot man," said Jack hanging up the phone. Then it hit him exactly what the founder of Full Moon Investigations had said. _Why would the file on a librarian be so sensitive that it had to be delivered by hand? Who exactly was this Giles guy?_

Daniel hung up the phone and sat for a while in thought. It wasn't so much the content of the file that he was going to be sending Dr. Jack Hodgins that gave him pause. Most of the information was known to the wealthy and powerful of the world, a group that definitely included Jack's family. It was more the man around whom the nature centered that made him question the decision to release it. Rupert Giles had been a good friend to Daniel. More than just a librarian, he was a friend and advisor. He had led Daniel through the most trying times of his life and had made him a better man. Would he be betraying the trust of the man that had been a father figure to Daniel and his friends all through high school by releasing this information? But his friend Jack needed the information in order to be prepared for any possible nature of the case he was working. As he sent an email to his runner to get ready for a trip to DC and began copying the information in his personal files on Rupert Giles, Daniel was struck by another, equally important question: how did the FBI agent, Seeley Booth, know the name Rupert Giles?

Daniel opened a new screen on his computer and started his customed designed search program. He would need to get information on this Booth guy too. As the program started its work, he did one last thing. He placed a call to a number he hadn't called in a long, long time. When the woman on the other end answered, it took him a while to find the words to talk to her.

"Willow, it's Oz. I have some information for you."

_Yeah, you read that right. Oz. Leave me a review, let me know what you think. And I am surprised no one called me on by subtle reference in the last chapter. There was an allusion to a movie scene that Buffy fans should know. Next chapter, Angela. And Booth's past arrives in the Jeffersonian._


	5. Chapter 5

_ I'm a guy, so it's kind of hard to think from a woman's perspective. I still don't own Bones or the Slayerverse._

Angela could already tell that this was not going to be a good week. Her father was out performing who knows where, she was currently between boyfriends, and to top it off, the power surge the night before had short out both her personal and work computers. What good were twenty dollar surge protectors if they didn't work? On the plus side, it gave her time to work on her pencil drawing while waiting for the holographic display, nicknamed "The Angelator" to be rebooted and checked out by the computer techs.

Brennan had already called to let her know that a new body was being brought in, something about being burned beyond recognition. Just what was needed to make Angela's day complete: a dead person to identify.

The main doors to the lab opened to reveal Mike and Dave, two of the lower-level Institute employees, carting in the bagged corpse. Two very good looking guys, one very much taken, the other very much gay. "God, I must really be desperate if I'm trying to find a guy from work to hook up with" Angela muttered to herself before walking toward the two. She led the two to a clear table to place the body and then sent them off to do whatever it was they did all day.

As she looked at the remains of the young woman, she couldn't help but wonder what the girl's life had been like. Where was she from? What were her dreams? Had she been in love? These were the questions that plagued her with every body that was brought before her. Let Booth, Brennan, Zack, and Hodgins worry about how the person had died; Angela wanted to know how they lived.

She looked up from her study of the dead girl's face to see Jack Hodgins looking at her tenderly. The man was a mystery to her, or at least as much a mystery as a man could be to a woman. One minute, he would be shamelessly flirting with her, then would switch attitude seemingly mid-thought and be deadly serious. His conspiracy theories were a ruse, she knew. He did not even seem to believe them himself. So why did he spout them every chance he got? "Any idea who she was?" she asked the man.

"Not really. Any identification seems to have been burned as well. I'm about to sift through a bunch of ashes I gathered to see if there are any remnants." At Angela's nod, Jack continued. "Zack needs to get there to start his examination. He'll clean the skull and get it to you as quickly as possible so that you can start your magic," he said with a smirk.

Angela stepped back from the table to let Zack in, her eyes never leaving Jack's. He knew how much bodies affected her and always seemed to find something for her to do to keep her mind off of the gruesome deaths they dealt with. True to form, he came up with a mindless chore for her, "Hey, I could use another set of hands with the sifting. Those pretty eyes of yours might catch something I miss."

Angela just rolled her yes at Jack's flirting. One of these days, he was going to realize that he just wasn't her type. He was smart, cute, and almost as rich as God, but Angela like men with a hint of danger in them. Jack Hodgins, sweet and funny, and cute, and rich that he was, just did not exude the testosterone of someone like Booth. Not that she was interested in Booth, either. He was strictly for Bren. Off limits to Angela. So as far as office relationships went, she was out of luck. Zack was much too immature and she didn't really interact with many of the other staff members at the Jeffersonian. In the time it had taken her to catalogue her lack of potential romantic interests, she and Hodgins had arrived at his lab.

Dr. Jack Hodgins' lab was a reflection of the man himself, a strange mix of the bizarre and beautiful. "Well, here we go," Jack said, pulling out from seemingly nowhere two sets of sifting boxes and beginning to unpack his load of sample bags and bottles. "Each of these samples needs to be sifted to filter out the larger particles. The bits too small to catch in the smallest filter, we'll dilute with distilled water and run a chemical analysis on to get the molecular makeup. Be sure to keep the samples separate and wash each filter out before moving on to the next sample," Hodgins said working as he spoke.

"Jack," said Angela, waiting until he looked up before continuing. "I know how to keep evidence untainted. I've helped you out before, this isn't my first rodeo."

"One day, you and I will have a real rodeo." Angela could not believe that she had set him up like that. Just as she was about to hit him or, better still, make a signature witty comeback, Jack straightened up. "That's interesting."

"What have you got?"

From the filter box he was working with, Jack pulled out a ring.

"Was that hers?" Angela asked.

"I don't know. This sample was collected a ways from the body. I don't think it was hers, though. Unless she had man-sized fingers, because this looks to be a man's ring. I'm not familiar with the meaning of this symbol, though."

Angela leaned over to see. The ring had an opaque red stone with a black sideways figure eight etched into it. "It looks like the symbol for infinity."

Jack gave a little huff, "It _is_ the symbol for infinity, but that is a strange thing to have on a piece of jewelry, isn't it?"

Angela set back and looked into her box and, "There's another one in this sample."

Jack thought quickly. "Check the other samples; see how many rings there are."

When they were done, every pile found away from the body had a ring, with varying sizes. Additionally, two rings were found in the samples next to the body.

Jack sat back, puzzled. "The ash piles around the body were seemingly random, and it didn't feel ritualistic. But the commonality of the rings in every pile of ash says otherwise."

"Why don't you take the rings to Dr. Goodman? He's a cultural anthropologist, right."

Jack looked up, catching her eyes, and smirked, "And they say you're just here for your looks. I'll go see what he has to say."

After Jack left, Angela set in his lab for a little longer contemplating the last good natured barb he had sent her way. He didn't see her as just a pretty face, did he? And why did it matter to her what he thought of her?

"I'm telling you, Bones, just drop it. I'm fine. It was just a sudden change of height that got me light headed. Trust me, I'm just fine," came the voice of Agent Seeley Booth through the main area of the Jeffersonian Laboratories.

Zack Addy did not look up from his examination of the cadaver as Agent Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan approached the table. "Alright, Zack, what do you got for me? Any ID yet? Any idea on the cause of the fire?"

"Not really. There were no accelerants that I can detect, but Dr. Hodgins will be able to tell you better when he runs a chemical analysis of the ashes. As for identification, I have located a piece of skin less charred that appears to have been tattooed. Kind of a graphic tattoo, actually."

"Tattoo? What tattoo?" asked Agent Booth.

"What do you mean by graphic, Zack?" asked Dr. Brennan leaning forward.

Zack decided that he could answer both questions at the same time and speed up the process. "It is here," he said, gesturing, "at the lower most portion of the lumbar region where the back meets the buttocks."

"She got a tramp stamp?" asked Agent Booth, seemingly incredulous. Zack looked at Dr. Brennan for an explanation of the slang term, but she just shook her head and gestured for him to continue his description.

"It took some work, but I was able to clean off enough of the charred epidermis to determine the nature of the tattoo. It is an anatomically correct heart, not the symbolic hearts seen in most tattoos. Sticking through the heart, crossed, are two pointed pieces of wood. Blood dripping from the heart forms writing, which reads-"

"_Dum spiro pugno_" Zack was surprised that it was Agent Booth that cut him off and correctly read the Latin phrase. He looked up and saw that the man was not even looking at the body anymore. "While I breathe, I fight. When will a facial reconstruction be done?" asked Agent Booth, turning to find the two squints staring at him. "Well?"

Zack just shook his head. "I don't know, you'd have to ask Angela."

"Ask me what?" asked the darker complexioned woman, walking up to the table.

"When can you have the facial reconstruction done? I have someone coming that may be able to ID the body and I want to have more than this to show them."

"It will be at least tomorrow. That power surge last night wiped out the computer system and the tech guys need to make sure there wasn't any permanent damage. But Jack and I did find something interesting in the ashes he gathered," Angela answered.

Seeley Booth ignored the last part of her answer; he knew what the ashes were of. He had seen and created many of them in his day. He just had to know if the girl was Buffy. Faith didn't think so, and the tattoo was not like the Buffy that he knew, but a few years _could_ change a person and the Powers _did_ say that it was the Slayer who died. "If you were shown a portrait of a someone, could you verify if it was the victim?"

Angela seemed taken aback. "An accurate portrait? Sure. Or a photo. But where would you get one?"

Again, Booth only focused on the first part of her response and was already moving, "Bones, I'll be in your office. Don't disturb me unless it is absolutely unavoidable."

Angela yelled after him "Don't you want to see the" the office door slammed "rings? Guess not. What is with him?"

"You're asking me? You're the people person. Anyway show me the rings," said Temperance Brennan, just as puzzled my Booth's reactions as her friend.

As the two walked to the lab, Angela explained about the strange rings found in the piles of ash. So caught up was Temperance in Angela's description that she did not notice the couple in an argument with the security guard.

The dark-haired woman was wearing a short halter top that showed a generous amount of cleavage as well as an extremely well-toned stomach. Her tight jeans showed her legs and posterior to great advantage as well. But the guard, acting as a true professional, had ignored these wonderful attributes and did his job too well for her liking. The other individual was male, with platinum hair wearing a tight black t-shirt and black denim jeans. If the guard had known the truth about the two individuals, he would have immediately called for back-up. The two trained killers could have easily torn him apart.

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Spike was on the verge of tearing the dumb security guard apart. Spike knew that Angel was here because the FBI office had confirmed that Agent Seeley Booth-what kind of bloody stupid pansy name was Seeley anyway? - was at the Jeffersonian. Despite his insistence that Agent Booth was expecting them, he and his Slayer still weren't allowed in. And she was showing enough of her choice bits to make a monk say Hail Maries for a month solid. Maybe the guard was a poof? No, then he would have been checking Spike out. Spike summoned up the last bit of patience he had, "Look, man could you at least send him a message saying that Faith and Spike are here?"

The guard sighed and sent the message through his walkie-talkie. Finally, they were getting somewhere. As they waited for the great ponce to let him into the laboratory, two men, one short with a beard, and the other an older, taller black man passed by the guard huddled together.

"Hey," shouted Faith. "How come they got to go through with out you even blinking?"

The guard answered tiredly, "Doctors Hodgins and Goodman are employees. You aren't."

As Faith leaned back against the wall with a huff, the shorter of the two men dropped whatever it was he was carrying. The small circle rolled through the guard's feet before coming to a stop against the toe of Spike's shoe. He bent to pick it up, looked at the ring and stopped breathing. "Where did you get this?"

The black man answered. "Why? What do you know of this symbol? We know its mathematical symbolism, but I cannot think of any cultural meaning."

Spike's mind was far away in both place and time. "The Immortal"

"Who?"

Faith walked into the conversation. "Let us talk to Agent Booth, and we'll tell you. He called us, and rent-a-cop here won't let us in. Agent Booth wanted us to help identify a body."

Dr. Daniel Goodman looked the provacatively-clad young woman up and down, raised an eyebrow, and said, "We'll see about that. Mike, they're with me."

As the group walked in, Dr Goodman spoke to the two, "I am Dr. Daniel Goodman, the director of the institute, and this is Dr Jack Hodgins, our resident entomologist, mineralogist, and microbiologist."

The young woman spoke up with a grin. "That's a lot of hats for one head, Doc. How do you keep them on straight?"

Jack looked the woman up and down, appreciating her "character traits", "With the utmost humility, Ms…?"

"Lehane, but the name is Faith. And this is William Pratt. We are old friends of Ang…Agent Booth," Faith almost slipped, but caught herself in time. "From a past life, you could say."

"You mean from when he was a sniper?" Asked Dr. Hodgins.

"Something like that."

Neither Dr. Goodman nor Spike had spoken during this interchange. Spike had not relinquished the ring and was following along like a zombie, staring at the piece of metal. Dr. Goodman, after the initial introduction had studied the man studying the ring. He did not appear old, physically, but the look in Mr. Pratt's eyes when he looked at the ring showed an old man, weary of the world.  
"It is her," said the object of his study.

"Spike, you don't know that. We haven't even seen the body."

"This is the seal of the Immortal, he's one of the few left with the balls and ability to even try let alone succeed," cried the man in a slight cockney accent.

"Spike, not another word," demanded Faith, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but we haven't fully assessed the situation. We need to make sure before we go running off half-cocked, and oh my God, I sounded like Giles."

Jack, who had tried to give the couple some privacy when the man broke his silence, immediately perked up when he heard the name Giles. For the second time he had heard that name in connection with this case. He wondered how long it would take Daniel Osborne's courier to get to DC with that file.

"You're right, we need to find out everything before I go and rip that bastard's throat out."

Dr. Goodman was a little put off by the man's sudden shift in emotion. Obviously, the man had a strong connection to whoever it was Booth thought the victim was. As he guided the pair along with Dr Hodgins carefully around the main examination tables to the lab where he had just seen Zack Addy walk in, Dr Goodman ran through his memory searching for a person or organization called the Immortal and came back empty. They would just have to wait and see what the pair had to say.

When the group entered the lab, however, Agent Booth was not among the group. Instead, Angela Montenegro, Zack Addy, and Dr. Temperance Brennan were each studying a different ring similar to the one Mr. Pratt clutched in his fist. "Where is Agent Booth?" asked Dr. Goodman.

"In my office, drawing," answered Dr. Brennan.

"I did not know the man could draw," responded her employer.

"Yeah, he can. He's bloody good at it to, but don't tell him I said so," responded Spike.

"And you are?" asked Angela.

"Sorry, the name is William Pratt, but pretty much everyone calls me Spike."

"Because of the spiky hair?" asked the youngest in the room.

Faith snorted. "Yeah, exactly because of his hair. I'm Faith."

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan. You're the one Booth was on the phone with earlier. You made good time to get here so quickly."

"Yeah, well we have contacts."

After the remaining introductions were made, the room settled into the uneasy silence of a group of strangers trying to figure each other out.  
Just when Spike was about to try reading some of his poetry to the group to see how they liked it, the link between the two groups walked in with four sheets of paper in his hand.

"Angela, I didn't know which sides you would need, so here is a front, back, and both profiles. Hey Faith, Spike."

"You didn't have to make a full body portrait, just the face would have been enough. Hey, these are good, I mean really good. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

Just then, Jack's phone rang. He answered it, and after a brief, inaudible, conversation, excused himself.

Angela looked up from her study of the portraits. "If these are accurate, and given the detail and quality, I don't doubt that they are, then the woman on the table and the woman in the portrait are not the same."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ok, new chapter, same disclaimer. _

Jack Hodgins hated to leave the lab without knowing if the body was the person that Booth thought it was. He especially wanted to get his hands on Booth's drawings. Soldier, cop, and father all fit well with the person he knew. But artist? That was a new one.

But Oliver, Daniel Osborne's courier had called saying that he was at the Jeffersonian with the files Jack had requested. Jack didn't know which airline he had flown on, but the speed with which he got from Montgomery, Alabama to Washington DC was amazing. Even if Jack had used his family jet, he doubted he could have made the trip as quickly. Especially considering that an investigation was carried out before the trip.

He saw Oliver waiting patiently outside of the security checkpoint, some files in his hand and a box at his feet. "Hey Oliver, what have you got for me?"

"Well," answered the dark-haired young man, "Here is the file you requested. But the box is something else that Oz wanted you to see. He said that it regards Agent Booth. Here is a letter to read before you open the box. I'm supposed to stay here with you and take the material back to FMI when you're done with it."

Hodgins took a second look at the box at Oliver's feet. It was labeled Angelus (abstract). Strange. And the documents needed to be returned? Curiouser and curiouser. "Alright, bring it on in. I'll get everyone out of my office and I'll check this out."

As they made their way to the lab, Hodgins read the note, becoming more amazed by the sentence. Agent Booth had not existed until a few years ago. He was on the roster of agents, yes, but he had not filed any reports and was listed under no field offices. It was only by his official photo that Daniel had been able to link him to this Angelus person.

As Jack and Oliver approached the lab, the others were leaving. "Dr. Hodgins, we are going to resume the examination of the body. We will bring you anything we need analyzed." Jack just nodded to acknowledge Dr. Brennan's statement and kept going into the lab. Once he and Daniel were inside, he locked the door and got to reading on Rupert Giles while Oliver walked around looking at the things in his office.

Jack Hodgins knew the truth about vampires. It was an advantage to be rich; you got to find the truth of things easier. One of his great-uncles had even been a Watcher, so most of Daniel's exposition about the duties and traditions of the Watchers Council were easily skimmed through. The real meat of Mr. Giles' file centered on a young woman named Buffy Anne Summers, his Slayer, and his rebuilding of the Watchers Council. It was obvious by this point that Booth believed the body to be that of a Slayer, specifically, Buffy Summers.

Which brought Jack to the box he had been avoiding. Seeley Booth was a friend and colleague. Jack knew him to be honest, trustworthy, hardworking, and just. Did he really need to know any more about the man? After contemplating the dilemma, he finally decided that Daniel wouldn't have sent the information if it were not important and potentially relevant.

He decided to open the box about Angelus.

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"So how do you know that it isn't her? Are you sure?"

"Mr. Pratt, I know my job. The skull doesn't match this picture. The height of the zygomatic arch and the shape of the mandible on this body point to someone with Hispanic heritage. The woman in Booth's drawing is pure Anglo. I'm guessing blond hair, blue eyes."

Booth, Spike, and Faith all released a collective breath. Booth was the first to respond. "Green, actually. But, even if it isn't Buffy, it is one of yours, Faith. Who was assigned to DC?"

Spike spoke up, "I've already spoken with Eli Goldman, the local Watcher. His charge is spoken for. This could be someone on special assignment that he doesn't know about. I'll make some calls, see what I can find out." Spike pulled out his Blackberry and walked up to the overhead balcony that served as a lounge for the Jeffersonian employees.

"In the mean time, we need to find out exactly how she died. Bones, anything new?"

"Nothing as to the manner of death. There were many injuries, none of which were fatal. At this point, I would say that smoke inhalation is the cause of death. Statistically speaking, most deaths in fires occur that way. Burn victims die post accident from sepsis. However, before you stalked off to commandeer my office, Angela was trying to explain that she and Hodgins discovered several rings in the piles of ash surrounding the body."

"Rings. Good. That could help identify the group responsible. Let me see one."

"Um, Ang…ent Booth," interrupted Faith, still stumbling over the name change. "I hate to interrupt your train of thought, but Spike already figured it out. You're not gonna like it, though."

"Why not?" asked Booth. "It's Wolfram and Hart, isn't it?"

"The law firm?" asked Angela. "They are the larges law firm in the world. I know the jokes about evil lawyers, but I doubt murder is in their list of services."

"How do you think they got to be so big? But, Agent Booth here went after their headquarters in L.A. and one of the partners got kicked out. Now, they're just Wolf and Hart. But it's not them. It's worse: the Immortal."

Booth's face paled and a hint of yellow flashed in his eyes. "I thought he was staying in Rome. Wanted to wallow in the old world."

"Well according to Spike, these rings belong to his crew. A sideways eight."

"Actually, it is not an eight. It is the mathematical symbol for infinity."

Booth looked at Zack Addy as though he were an idiot. "Infinity, forever, immortal. Get it? Good. Shut up." Turning back to Faith, he continued the discussion, ignoring the shocked looks of the Jeffersonian staff at his bluntness. "Why would he be attacking the…your organization? I thought he and Buffy were, you know, together."

"You fell for that?! No, that was one of the decoys. We were actually running an op in Rome. Mina, that was the girl's real name, dressed and acted like Buffy so that she could pump him for information, among other things. You know B better than that. Wait, never mind. Sleeping with the bad guy or at least the not good guy is right up her alley. And they call me the tramp!"

"If the stiletto fits," breathed Angela. Out loud she said, "Can we get back to the girl in question? If the CIA or NSA or Homeland Security or whoever 'your organization' is has info on the killer, we need to know so we can track them down and bring them to justice."

"Actually, Ms. Montenegro, if it is the Immortal, and all signs point to him, you need to stay out of it," interrupted Spike walking back to the group. "Even you, Seeley. You aren't exactly in your former fighting shape and you've been out of the game a while. I just talked to Giles. Seven…operatives and their handlers are missing, including Mina. And another didn't check in last night. Her handler is on the way here for possible identification of the body. Apparently, she had come to DC for some sightseeing. She wanted to check out the new Native American Smithsonian. The kicker is, she was a Buffy decoy. Anyway, ladies and gents, thank you for bringing this to our attention, we'll take it from here."

"Wait one second. This is a murder investigation. You have no concrete evidence that this woman's death is connected to the people in your organization that have gone missing. And even if you did, the FBI is running this investigation not you, right Booth?" protested Dr. Temperance Brennan.

"She's a regular spark plug, isn't she? Reminds me of two cheerleaders we both knew, huh?" Spike said jokingly to Booth, but quickly changed attitude again and focused on Temperance. "Stay out of it Dr. Brennan. You have no idea who or what you are dealing with."

"William Henry Pratt, aka William the Bloody, aka Spike, grandchilde of Liam Connor O'Donnell, aka Angelus, aka Angel. Two of the most infamous mass murderers in Europe. Faith Elizabeth Lehane, also a murderer. Wanted for the murder of the Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale, California. Voluntarily turned herself in, pled guilty, and served two years before escaping from a high-security prison. I think that about sums it up," said Dr. Jack Hodgins, storming up to the group with a cross in one hand and a wooden stake in the other.

"Why do you have a crucifix and a stick?" asked Dr. Brennan.

"Have you been drinking on the job again?" asked Angela.

"Are we hunting vampires?" asked Zack. "I used to role-play Masquerade."

Hodgins' voice rose above the others, "I forgot the most important thing. Those two," he said, pointing the stake at Booth and Spike, "are vampires."

"Dr. Hodgins, were there any hallucinogens in those samples you were analyzing? There is no scientific evidence of vampirism, only fiction and folk tales. There are cultures where animal blood is an ingredient in certain foods. The ancient Mongols would drink their horses' blood on long journeys when they ran out of food and water. But actual supernatural creatures like Dracula are a myth. And even if there were, Booth could not be one. For one, he wears a crucifix around his neck. Two, his favorite Chinese-American dish is honey garlic chicken. Third, you can see his reflection on this metal table. Fourth, and most importantly, he is constantly in the sun."

"He could be a daywalker like Blade," responded Zack. At everyone's stares, he continued. "I've really enjoyed the graphic novels ever since Dr. Hodgins introduced me to them. Blade is part vampire, but he can walk around during the day."

"Garlic just puts them off because the smell offends their heightened senses," continued Jack, ignoring his younger coworker.

"Zack, don't be an idiot; Jack is right. And the strength of the crucifix is proportional to the strength of the belief of the bearer. But Jack is wrong. I'm not a vampire."

"Oh really, then why are there no after action reports by you from the Gulf War? Or any transportation orders with your name on them. You are listed on missions and on assignment, but there are no records of your transportation to them. Plus, the first seven years of your service with the FBI, you did not write a single report, memo, or email. It is as though you were just plugged in to a life written out for you. I have contacts that assure me that you were on covert ops, but nothing too black. But the paperwork doesn't exist. You don't exist."

"You're starting to repeat yourself, Jack," said Angela when he took a breath. "I'm sure that there is a reasonable explanation, one without vampires in it."

"Wait until you hear this. My contact looked into Booth, found these inconsistencies, and kept digging. Booth's service picture popped up, and Daniel recognized him." Hodgins placed on the body in front of the group a portrait of a man that looked like a younger version of Booth. "This was drawn by a man named Merrick in 1863. It is a rendering of the vampire, Angelus, the 'Scourge of Europe.' Second point: the vampire Angelus has a tattoo on his right shoulder blade. That was copied down by Rupert Giles, a man whose name has been mentioned more than once today. Here is the drawing; care to show us your back?" Jack put down a second drawing.

Temperance Brennan gasped. She alone knew that Seeley Booth had the exact same griffin on his back. "No need. I've seen it."

Angela raised her eyebrow, but remained silent.

"Continuing then, Angelus traveled with three other vampires: his sire Darla, his childe Drusilla, and her childe Spike. Drusilla and Darla are confirmed as vanquished. Spike, so named for his propensity for driving railroad spikes in his victims' heads, is described as a wiry, with angular features, and having a sort of rugged handsomeness that readily attracts women. A drawing of him by Nikki Wood, who was hunting him before being killed," He laid down a third picture, this one of the same Spike who stood before them, sans leather jacket. "The last known location of Angelus was in Los Angeles, the year of the massive riots, when part of the city burned down. Angelus was the head of Wolfram and Hart, the law firm of choice for the rich, the powerful, and the evil. The only redeeming quality of my family is never having used those bastards. Anyway, the next month after the riots and fires, Agent Seeley Booth finally starts turning in paperwork." Dr. Hodgins finished with a flourish of the stake in his right hand.

"Kid's got good sources," muttered Spike to Faith, who nodded mutely waiting for Angel to make the call.

Booth had said nothing during Hodgins' spiel. He listened, but since it was his story and he had been there, he really didn't pay that much attention. Instead, he was thinking about what the Powers That Be had said, that the case would require the squints. And in order for them to do their jobs and survive, they would need all the information. "Ok, time for the truth. But not here, it's too open. Everyone to Bones' office, and I will tell you everything."

Spike caught up to Booth as they were walking away. "You're really gonna tell them? Why?"

"Because I trust Cordy," replied Booth, not looking at him.

Spike didn't know what that meant, besides the obvious. "Right, then. Can I do the bit, then? I am the Watcher here, after all."

"You, a Watcher?" asked the incredulous Booth. "You've killed two Slayers."

"I can tell them what not to do," responded Spike with a grin.

_Here you go, a new chapter, almost 2500 words long. I've actually started a bit on Spike's monologue for the next chapter. Work is boring right now, so I have a bit of time to write. Anyway, read, enjoy, and review! Thanks to everyone who is still with me, I know I take a while between chapters, but I hope it is worth it._


	7. Chapter 7

**I know it has been more than a year since my last chapter. But I hope any readers still out there won't shoot me. I don't own Angel or Bones.**

The whole group filed into Dr. Brennan's office, followed by Faith, Spike, and Booth. Booth spoke first, "Spike is going to tell the whole tale. All of you need to pay attention. Bones, you are going to hear some things you won't believe. Hold all your questions until the end. I know this will not make sense at first, but believe me, it is all true. So be quiet until he is done. Is that understood?" All either nodded or vocalized their agreement. Booth stared at Temperance until finally, and very slowly, she nodded. "Spike, let them have it."

The younger man straightened up and assumed a professional demeanor as he began his lecture.

"This world is far older than any of you know. Contrary to popular belief, it did not start out as a paradise. A being of immense power and unknown age and origin is the source of all existence. It was He who created all the planets and stars and atoms and the rules governing them. He created lesser beings to serve Him in maintaining His creation. He did not need the help, but He desired it, so these lesser beings came into existence. These beings were immensely powerful and beautiful. One, given the charge of a small star with several orbiting bodies in a smaller spiral galaxy, considered himself the greatest of all creation. Lucifer, as he called himself, became so infatuated with himself that he forgot that he was dependent on a greater being for his very life. He started encouraging others of his kind to likewise set themselves apart. Many did so. Soon an all out war occurred. Almost a third of the beings rebelled against the Creator. Some of the beings neither rebelled against nor fought for Him. The war raged for millennia.

Eventually, the Creator Himself stepped in and threw out those who opposed him as well as those who had not participated. Only those who had remained truly loyal to Him were allowed to remain in His presence. In fact, they were drawn even closer to Him in a separate dimension. A garden called Eden. The others were cast down to the third planet orbiting Lucifer's star. The Creator had already placed mortal creations on this planet: plants, animals and the like. However, the arrival of the Fallen seriously upset the balance of life on the planet. Billions of deaths occurred. Entire species disappeared. Using the natural processes implanted by the Creator, some species began to change, becoming larger and more powerful or smaller and stealthier. They had to be to survive against the immortal fallen who had begun to fight amongst themselves.

Saddened by the loss of so many followers, the Creator began to create a new, lesser species, intelligent enough to be a meaningful follower and to be able to be a steward of the creation, but lacking the power of Lucifer's kin. Whereas the first followers had been created directly from the Creator's power, this creation would be made up of common elements already created. The first of these was called man. The man was placed in Eden with many new animals and plants. He was given stewardship over them and gave them names. But man was coarse and hard, like the dirt he came from. The Creator therefore created a balance to man. Taking the basic genetic makeup of the man, he created a female, just like with all mortal . The man and woman, as the female was named, ruled over Eden; the woman's care balancing the man's harshness.

However, this was not to last. One of the fallen had found a doorway to Eden. He was able to possess one of the animals and give it speech. It created doubt in the woman's mind. Doubt about the Creator. This doubt led to disobedience and their expulsion from Eden, along with the animals and plants therein. They were sent to the original dimension, to the third planet, which had become nearly lifeless following one large conflict amongst the fallen. Earth, as the humans called their new home, was a hard place to life. The man had to plant crops in the earth for food or hunt the animals. For all were now mortal. Food was needed. The unity they had enjoyed with their Creator was also missing. Their unity with each other introduced another hardship to the woman: childbirth.

But through sheer force of will, the humans survived and prospered, as did many of the Eden creatures. The Fallen began to notice the humans. Some began to gather human followers. Some began to impregnate women or seduce men. The Creator saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become, the influence the fallen had gained, and that every inclination of the thoughts of man's heart was evil all the time. The Creator was grieved that he had made man, and his heart was filled with pain. So the Creator decided to wipe mankind from the face of the earth along with the animals. But one man, Noah, was still pure in heart. Noah's faithfulness and righteousness convinced God that his creation was still worth saving. So he instructed Noah to build a huge boat to house from 4 to 14 of all kinds of animals and to take seedlings of all plants and prepare for a cleansing of the Earth. The cleansing took the form of a flood. The flood also masked another cleansing, the removal of the fallen from this dimension. A barrier was placed between the two dimesions of pure light, a thing which the fallen could not stand.

But even this cleansing could not remove the stain from the earth. One of the fallen-human halfbreeds, named Ishta, had seen Noah's preparations. She knew of Noah's devotion to God and suspected what was to come. She built an ark of her own and tricked others of her kind into boarding it. She locked them in it, saving them from destruction. Also, one of Noah's sons, Ham, was fed upon by a fallen right as they were being snatched from this dimension. Ham lay dying when the fallen, called Uurthu, allowed some of his power to pass into Ham before he was sealed away. Thus was created the first vampire."

_I have more already hand written, just ironing it out now. I know this is long over due, but I will now be trying to update more solidly. _


	8. Chapter 8

_This chapter will end my history of the world section. I still have one more section explanations that the scientists will need so that I can really get the story going again, but this gets most out of the way._

"So the world was renewed, the descendants of Noah repopulating the world. After the tower at Babel was destroyed by God, humans scattered. The house of Japeth went north and west, settling Russia and Europe. Seeing what had happened to their patriach, the Hamites went south and west, using the Sahara desert as a buffer from the nocturnal vampires. The house of Shem spread out the most, settling Asia, sailing to Indonesia, and crossing the Bering Isthmus into North America. However, some stayed in the same area. The Semites, as they were known, followed many of the old traditions. The descendants of Shem's son Arphaxad were completely true to the Creator."

"Millenia passed. Empires rose and fell. Eventually the Arphaxadians, now called Jews, were ruled by the largest empire yet, that of the Romans. The governor of Judea was asked by the Jewish religious council to crucify a young rabbi. This man claimed to be the Messiah, the prophesied son of God sent to free the Jews. However, his ideas of freedom were not that of the two leading political parties within the Jewish priesthood, the Pharisees and the Sadducees. His message of peace and love and an all-inclusive kingdom of God attracted many followers and threatened the Sadducean and Pharisaic power. They convinced Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, that Yeshua, a 33 year-old Nazarene Jew, was trying to stir up rebellion among the Judeans. Pilate bowed to their demands."

"What he did not know was that Yeshua WAS the Messiah, the Son of God, the prophesied Savior. But by crucifying him, Pilate fulfilled the prophesy.

During the crucifixtion, something unexpected happened. One of the soldiers guarding the site, tired of guard duty, wanted to ensure the death of the so called 'King of the Jews.' Instead of breaking the young man's legs, the traditional method of killing crucifixtion victims, he stabbed him in the chest with his spear. The man had already died and the blood washed over the soldier. From that moment, the soldier was blessed and cursed. He was the first to truly know that Yeshua was the Son of God. Others had believed, but Flavius Longinus knew. The blood of Christ gave him the temperary knowledge of past, present, and future. However, he had desecrated the body of Yahweh's Son. The death and suffering were prophesied and necessary; the desecration was not. The cruelty of this act deserved an equally cruel punishment. Longinus could not die."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad," broke in Angela, the first interruption in Spike's narrative.

Spike looked at her as one would a misbehaving child and continued, "I said he could not die, but he still aged. When he realized this, Longinus sought out mages, wizards, sorcerers, witches, warlocks, and other masters of arcane, divine, and infernal magics desperately seeking either death or prevention of age. Finally, in about 200 AD, a priest took pity on him and informed Longinus that he could in fact be killed, but only by the same spear with which he had desecrated the Messiah. The knowledge imparted to him by Jesus' blood had long since vanished, so the location of the spear was lost to him. Using the magics he had learned, Longinus cast glamours on himself to hide his aged body and began tracking the spear.

"For the spear had itself become "famous, said to hold mystical powers. Longinus finally tracked the Spear of Destiny to Ireland, but was prevented from acquiring it by a young king named Connor. Connor succeded in driving Longinus and his followers out of Ireland and placed the spear beyond the Roman's reach. "

"Longinus then moved to Rome, attacking the community of followers of Jesus. Despite his attacks, the Christian faith flourished, becoming the official religion of Rome. Eventually, however, Longinus gained a foothold in the Catholic Church itself. He began to sway the policies of the Church, leading them away from their original traditions and beliefs. The Crusades, the Inquisition, the selling of indulgences, the beatification of politicians and rulers in exchange for money and the witch hunts all were policies he instituted. Finally, the 20th century arrived. The first World War had crippled the once proud German nation and the intense restriction place upon them by the Treaty of Versailles kept Germany from regaining it's former place in the world. The proud German people were looking for someone to blame for their problems. A young politician named Adolf Hitler blamed the Jewish people. Hitler believed that the German people were the supreme race and the failures of the nation could be traced to the Jews. This belief rapidly gained popularity and the blame was spread to the Romani and homosexuals. Galvinized by a common enemy once again, the German people began to restore their country to its former strength. To further his cause, Hilter began seeking powerful mystical item. Longinus saw this as an opportunity to resume his search for the Spear and to take his revenge of the favored people of God. He caused the Catholic Church to ignore the atrocities taking place in Germany. Though many individual priests spoke out against the Holocaust or helped Jews escape the Nazi's, the Church as an institution turned a blind eye. "

"The Nazis and their allies were eventually defeated. Longinus realized that the power of the Church had waned, that its political power was not what it had been. He began venturing out again into Europe, following up clues turned up by Hitler's search for the Spear of Destiny. The Catholic Church, freed from his influence gradually begins to restore itself, led by a young Polish priest named Karol Wojtyła. And so we come to today. The Immortal, as he now calls himself, has build a following of humans and demons. And now it seems he is attacking Slayers."


End file.
